Many things had changed since Pierre's departure. Her father and stepmother had both been killed in an automobile accident, and both wills had left Pierre as sole executioner, leaving her with nothing until he was to return. Penniless, Lissette was forced to move into a local convent when she found that she could not run the whole house by herself. She soon ran out of food, and the little money in her account was nowhere near enough for utility bills.
"Hello young ma'am," a young, pretty nun greeted, introducing herself as Marion. Lissette smiled and nodded. She was led to a small room with rows of double-story beds, oh how she longed to just lie down!
"Do you speak English?" the nun called Sister Marion asked. Lissette nodded 'yes' and continued fantasizing about how delicious one of those beds would feel under her tired body.
"Good," she said simply. The two continued the tour and soon it was time for bed. Lissette was so overwhelmed by the place that she lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering about Pierre.
The morning came all too quickly for Lissette, who had just drifted off to sleep when the sun was rising. "Girls! Time to wake up!" Sister Marion announced, throwing open the large curtains. Sunlight streamed into the room from all angles, blinding some of the girls, driving others back under their blankets, and making a few jump right up. The nun explained that breakfast would be served in one half hour, whether we were there or not. "We are servants of God, not cooks," she said before walking out of the room.
"Who is she?" a blonde girl asked in German to her bedside friend, pointing to Lissette. The way in which she spoke these German words was hateful and Lissette was enraged.
"I'm Lissette," she said in German with the sweetest tone she could muster, completely shocking the two German girls. Lissette smiled and added, "It's nice to meet you." She walked slowly away from the two and smiled to herself. Her father would be proud. All of the money he'd spent on foreign language training had paid off well.
At noon, lunch was served, followed directly by the mail. Lissette waited eagerly for a letter, but could not think of a reason why she would receive one, especially to this address. She hoped nonetheless. She continued hoping for a long while. Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months in the convent, and still, no contact. She waited every day for a letter or telegram, only to find she had nothing. As the time passed, she'd made a few friends and had a few laughs, but nothing really cheered her up, she missed Pierre terribly.
Soon, autumn turned to winter, and winter to spring. April had never been a particular favorite month of Lissette's. Sure, the animals were all out of hibernation by April, and the flowers and scents were absolutely delightful, but nothing really seemed to go right during the month. It was almost like a curse, she couldn't be happy during this early spring, rainy four weeks known as April.
"Lissette," Sister Marion said softly at supper, "Please come with me."
Lissette excused herself from the table and followed the young nun quietly. Not a word was spoken until they'd reached the quarters of the Mother Superior at the front of the large church, where Lissette was ushered inside and seated in front of two armed guards.
"Lissette, you received a telegram today," an older woman called Sister Ceilia explained slowly. Lissette's face lit up and she sat on the edge of her chair, pleading with her eyes to hear what the telegram had to say. Sister Ceilia proceeded with a heavy heart as she read the small letters on the paper.
"18, April, 1945. Stop. Lissette O'Brien. Stop. Daughter of Samuel O'Brien. Stop. Sister to Pierre O'Brien. Stop," with this, the woman ensued slowly, not wanting to read the horrible note again. She started once, but could not continue, tears welling up in her eyes. Lissette looked at the female cleric, and was confused. She had her suspicions, but she couldn't quite place why the woman was so emotionally involved. "This post is to inform you that your brother Pierre has been mortally wounded in battle," she eventually choked out. The tears in her eyes were now falling down her face as she tried to keep the hurtful words from exiting her mouth. The woman wanted nothing more than to tear up the telegram, take the young girl in her arms and hold her. Having never had a family herself, she could almost feel Lissette's heart ripping apart as she heard the words. "Stop. Please accept our condolences. Stop. Signed, Captain John H. Miller, U.S. Army." The woman knew that Lissette was no longer listening, and chose not to finish the man's ranking and title.
"Miss," one of the guard said gently, "These are for you." He handed a very shaken Lissette a French flag, folded in an American style which she later found was meant to be respectful, a letter, and a piece of folded, faded brown leather. She recognized the latter as her brother's wallet and allowed only a few tears to escape, not wanting to loose her disposition. She was a mature 17 now, and if she was going to live any kind of life, she would need to learn to stay strong, even in the worst of circumstances. Here was her chance.
"Merci, officier," she said. She was excused and paced quickly back to her room. She threw the flag and envelope onto the bed and flopped down beside them. She still had the wallet in her hand and was examining it closely. She traced the worn hide slowly and deliberately, remembering how excited he was when she gave it to him for his birthday.
She opened the envelope to find a few letters shoved inside. She was amazed to see that they were written in English, and even more amazed to see that her brother had signed and dated them. One was from a few days after he left, another was from weeks afterward, and another still! She read his stained texts and cried so hard. A few of the girls in her bunking room tried to console her, but she chose to lie in bed alone, weeping. She opened the wallet over and over again; looking at the photos their father had paid so much for over the years and only sobbed harder.
"Hello young ma'am," a young, pretty nun greeted, introducing herself as Marion. Lissette smiled and nodded. She was led to a small room with rows of double-story beds, oh how she longed to just lie down!
"Do you speak English?" the nun called Sister Marion asked. Lissette nodded 'yes' and continued fantasizing about how delicious one of those beds would feel under her tired body.
"Good," she said simply. The two continued the tour and soon it was time for bed. Lissette was so overwhelmed by the place that she lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering about Pierre.
The morning came all too quickly for Lissette, who had just drifted off to sleep when the sun was rising. "Girls! Time to wake up!" Sister Marion announced, throwing open the large curtains. Sunlight streamed into the room from all angles, blinding some of the girls, driving others back under their blankets, and making a few jump right up. The nun explained that breakfast would be served in one half hour, whether we were there or not. "We are servants of God, not cooks," she said before walking out of the room.
"Who is she?" a blonde girl asked in German to her bedside friend, pointing to Lissette. The way in which she spoke these German words was hateful and Lissette was enraged.
"I'm Lissette," she said in German with the sweetest tone she could muster, completely shocking the two German girls. Lissette smiled and added, "It's nice to meet you." She walked slowly away from the two and smiled to herself. Her father would be proud. All of the money he'd spent on foreign language training had paid off well.
At noon, lunch was served, followed directly by the mail. Lissette waited eagerly for a letter, but could not think of a reason why she would receive one, especially to this address. She hoped nonetheless. She continued hoping for a long while. Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months in the convent, and still, no contact. She waited every day for a letter or telegram, only to find she had nothing. As the time passed, she'd made a few friends and had a few laughs, but nothing really cheered her up, she missed Pierre terribly.
Soon, autumn turned to winter, and winter to spring. April had never been a particular favorite month of Lissette's. Sure, the animals were all out of hibernation by April, and the flowers and scents were absolutely delightful, but nothing really seemed to go right during the month. It was almost like a curse, she couldn't be happy during this early spring, rainy four weeks known as April.
"Lissette," Sister Marion said softly at supper, "Please come with me."
Lissette excused herself from the table and followed the young nun quietly. Not a word was spoken until they'd reached the quarters of the Mother Superior at the front of the large church, where Lissette was ushered inside and seated in front of two armed guards.
"Lissette, you received a telegram today," an older woman called Sister Ceilia explained slowly. Lissette's face lit up and she sat on the edge of her chair, pleading with her eyes to hear what the telegram had to say. Sister Ceilia proceeded with a heavy heart as she read the small letters on the paper.
"18, April, 1945. Stop. Lissette O'Brien. Stop. Daughter of Samuel O'Brien. Stop. Sister to Pierre O'Brien. Stop," with this, the woman ensued slowly, not wanting to read the horrible note again. She started once, but could not continue, tears welling up in her eyes. Lissette looked at the female cleric, and was confused. She had her suspicions, but she couldn't quite place why the woman was so emotionally involved. "This post is to inform you that your brother Pierre has been mortally wounded in battle," she eventually choked out. The tears in her eyes were now falling down her face as she tried to keep the hurtful words from exiting her mouth. The woman wanted nothing more than to tear up the telegram, take the young girl in her arms and hold her. Having never had a family herself, she could almost feel Lissette's heart ripping apart as she heard the words. "Stop. Please accept our condolences. Stop. Signed, Captain John H. Miller, U.S. Army." The woman knew that Lissette was no longer listening, and chose not to finish the man's ranking and title.
"Miss," one of the guard said gently, "These are for you." He handed a very shaken Lissette a French flag, folded in an American style which she later found was meant to be respectful, a letter, and a piece of folded, faded brown leather. She recognized the latter as her brother's wallet and allowed only a few tears to escape, not wanting to loose her disposition. She was a mature 17 now, and if she was going to live any kind of life, she would need to learn to stay strong, even in the worst of circumstances. Here was her chance.
"Merci, officier," she said. She was excused and paced quickly back to her room. She threw the flag and envelope onto the bed and flopped down beside them. She still had the wallet in her hand and was examining it closely. She traced the worn hide slowly and deliberately, remembering how excited he was when she gave it to him for his birthday.
She opened the envelope to find a few letters shoved inside. She was amazed to see that they were written in English, and even more amazed to see that her brother had signed and dated them. One was from a few days after he left, another was from weeks afterward, and another still! She read his stained texts and cried so hard. A few of the girls in her bunking room tried to console her, but she chose to lie in bed alone, weeping. She opened the wallet over and over again; looking at the photos their father had paid so much for over the years and only sobbed harder.